002
I'm chosen, I'm the fruit you ate.
You're cozened, clawing at my gate.
The light you see in the sky
is but the death of a star.
My hands are seals around your heart.
Your broken eyes are works of art.
The words I scribe across your skin
are marks of my devoted sin.
Your cries of agony are mine.
Your begs for mercy are sublime.
The keens you breathe into my lungs
taste so sweet on my tongue.
I'm woven, into your flesh and bones.
I'm moving, in your veins and nerves.
Your mind is a knot I untie.
Your lips are locks my lies pry.
Hope is a cup I hold bare
from which you sip your despair.
Reach for me and call my name.
Whisper it, I am your bane.
Your ivory ribs I intertwine
to adorn your head with twisted crowns.
Your voice is a perverted choir
sung atop an exalted pyre.
Broken, like the wings of doves.
Unspoken, like the rules of love.
Forsaken, in a grave unmarked.
Taken, like a kiss unsought.
Beloved flower of yore.
The one I wholly adore.
Marred by the grips of desire.
Scarred by the licks of its fire.